


friday nights

by corviiid (unsungillumination)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, Sleepovers, Vague setting, commission, future... au... something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 15:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17810822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsungillumination/pseuds/corviiid
Summary: ann and goro have a weekly tradition: sleepovers every friday night. but coming right off a long week of work, goro's usually kind of tired and grouchy.well, that's what friends are for.commission for@WastedOnMojitoson twitter, based onthis fabulous piece of her art!





	friday nights

**Author's Note:**

> short fic for the lovely [poppy](https://twitter.com/WastedOnMojitos), who asked me to write something based on [this anngoro art she did](https://twitter.com/WastedOnMojitos/status/1094270583884468226)! thank you very much for commissioning me! im very grateful for your support, as always <3

   Ann opens the door after one sad little _thud_ on her door with a cheerful, “Goro!”, and Goro tumbles into her apartment already halfway through: “Oh my _god_ Ann you would not believe the fucking day I have just had –”

   Ann follows him into her quarters. “Did you knock with your face?”

   Goro dumps a box on the floor by the bed and collapses over it. “Do you still have my clothes,” he says, muffled into the mattress.

   “Real sweatpants from the one and only detective prince? I almost got them framed.” Ann rummages vaguely through the disaster she calls a wardrobe and pulls out a pile of red and white fabric to toss at Goro’s head.

   “Put the ice cream in the fridge,” says Goro instead of thanking her.

   “You brought ice cream?!”

   “Yes. It’s going to melt into your carpet.”

   Ann’s already tearing through the box. “You know me so well,” she sniffs, holding up the carton. “What is this weirdo flavour, though?”

   “You ask me that every time and every time you love it.”

   “ _Yeah… but…_ ”

   Goro finally lifts his head off the cushion. “I have a refined palate,” he says.

   “You have a snooty palate,” Ann says, poking him on the nose.

   “I like trying new things.”

   “You just grab whatever looks fancy off the shelf!”

   “Do you want it or not?”

   Ann scrambles to shove the Pistachio & Mango Ice Cream (Premium Flavour Range) into the freezer.

   “And nail polish,” Goro adds, now tugging out of his slacks and reaching for the bright red sweatpants. “Ugh, I resent these.”

   “Hey, I bought you those! I even had them monogrammed.” Ann pauses. “You want me to put the nail polish in the freezer?”

   “No, idiot, just go through them, you said you wanted to borrow some but very unhelpfully did not specify so I just brought them all.” Goro looks at his sweatpants. “And I know you did. They’re garish and horrifying.”

   “I’m only _not_ crying because I know you just get bitchy when you’re tired and you love those pants.” Ann is rummaging through the nail polish. “How do you have so many of these?!”

   Goro holds up the shirt contemplatively before letting it fall onto his face. “Life is a pit.”

   “Okay. Can I borrow this green gel one?”

   “I will bequeath it to you upon my natural death.”

   “Cool.” Ann hugs her prize to her chest. “Hey, if you had time to grab all this stuff, why didn’t you change before you got here?”

   Goro is now tugging his tie over his head without undoing it, a signal of the truly defeated. “I didn’t have anything to change into. And I wanted to get here quickly, because I had to tell _someone_ about my shitty day.”

   “You have other sweatpants.” Ann gasps. “You wanted the red ones! And you _missed_ me!”

   Goro pauses with the t-shirt over his face. “Don’t hug me,” he warns blindly, sensing danger, but Ann’s already flinging arms around his waist. “I’m suffocating…”

   “You know, we should really have these on the weekend instead,” Ann muses, cheek smushed into Goro’s bare torso. “You are such a bitch off a week of work.”

   “Thanks. Please stop rubbing your face on my chest.”

   “No!”

   Goro pulls the shirt on over Ann’s head, making her shriek. “I warned you.”

   “Why are we _friends_?!” Ann wails under the shirt.

   “Because I bring you ice cream and let you borrow my nail polish. The green one’s for you, by the way. I bought it for you.”

   Ann gasps, extracting her face from his shirt and sparkling at the vial of lacquer. “ _Really_?”

   Goro hums.

   “But it looks so expensive!”

   “Oh, that’s no issue.” Typical.

   “But how did you know I wanted –”

   “Well, I am a professional detective,” Goro announces primly, eye makeup smudged to hell and looking like a raccoon.

   “I _love_ you!”

   “Good.” Goro pokes her cheek. “Hey, do my nails? I haven’t had a chance to do them all month.”

   “Can I choose what colour?”

   “Well, it has to come off before Monday, so go wild.”

   Ann squeaks with delight. “Do mine after,” she clamours, taking his tired ceiling-oriented blank stare as acquiescence.

   The TV keeps buzzing idly while Ann sorts through the brightest colours in the box, a backdrop to Goro leaning over the side of the mattress and complaining she clearly intends to make a clown of him, and then Goro’s own face appears on TV and makes them both jump.

   “Change the channel,” Goro says impatiently, but Ann’s enamoured.

   “ _Yes, of course_ ,” TV-Goro is saying with a tinkling laugh. “ _Thank you so much for having me today. It’s truly a delight to be here, as always. Your questions are so refreshing – but don’t tell the other stations, okay?_ ”

   “That presenter’s a cow,” real-Goro says blandly, rolling onto his back. “Just another airheaded bloodsucker… heinous.”

   Ann looks at the giggling Goro on TV, and then to the scowling lump on her bed. “You’re so much nicer on TV. You’re awful in real life.”

   “Choke, then.”

   She pats his jaw. “I love awful.”

   He makes a face at her, but does grab her hand to peck it. “Okay. Don’t choke.”

   “Thank you,” she simpers, and starts painting his pinky purple.

   Goro’s phone buzzes in his abandoned slacks, and Ann lunges for it before he can. “Don’t get polish on my trousers,” he protests, but she’s already fumbling through his pockets. “Ann, do _not_ go through my personal correspondences –”

   “It’s _Ren_ ,” Ann coos, grabbing his hand for the thumbprint lock. “ _Oooooooh_.”

   “I blew him off to come here. I hope you’re grateful.” He catches the look on her face. “Oh, you know what I mean, don’t be crude.”

   “I _love_ this…” She nudges the little mask charm dangling from his case. “Did he get you it?”

   Goro grunts. “What does he want?”

   Ann’s eyes are very wide, staring at the screen. “Um, never mind. I’ll leave it to you!” she squeaks, tossing it back at him and knocking him in the nose. “Sorry!”

   “What – oh, good grief,” he says, reddening and shoving the whole phone under a pillow.

   “You’re not going to reply?” She waggles eyebrows at him.

   “I’m wearing sweatpants.”

   “Easily fixed!”

   “I’ll just tell him off in person later,” he says, and sticks his hand back in her face so she can finish doing his nails.

   “Sounds like you two are doing well,” Ann purrs, moving to red on his ring finger.

   “He’s a piece of shit,” Goro says, cheeks pinking, just as his TV counterpart chuckles and says, “ _Oh, no, I’d never use such crass language._ ”

 

* * *

 

   Goro knocks out at roughly ten thirty-one PM, and Ann is resigned.

   “You know,” she says to his sleeping face, “you’d think, since you’re always texting me at like three AM, you wouldn’t be such a _baby_ at sleepovers.”

   A lock of hair falls into Goro’s face and he snorts in his sleep. She rolls her eyes.

   They’ve already finished the ice cream and the dregs are dripping onto her sheets – true to his word, she’d devoured almost the whole tub, to his halfhearted protests. He doesn’t mind, she knows. He wouldn’t bring anything he didn’t want her to plough through.

   Still, in tribute to his mournful gazes at the empty tub, she had graciously allowed him to do her nails in the signature orange and green of ice creams past. The new green polish is exactly what she’s been after for months – she’d thank him again if he wasn’t drooling into her leg.

   Goro’s cute when he’s sleeping. His face is so angelic when he’s not scowling. So peaceful. So undisturbed.

   So boring…

   Ann plonks the ice cream container upside down on his head and watches the melted remains drip down his hair.

   He’s going to kill her for this.

   She stacks his phone on top.

   There’s a high probability it’s going to buzz off the side and bonk him on the face . His fate depends on whether or not his boyfriend will persist in sending increasingly incomprehensible memes as he’s been doing for the past half hour. “He’ll stop when I stop giving him attention, he’s like a two year old, or maybe a cat,” Goro had yawned at the start of it, and then promptly fallen asleep before he’d had to bear the worst. Well, serves him right. Ann carefully places three bottles of nail polish atop the screen in a feat of columnal architectural genius.

   He looks very beautiful.

   She adds a pyramid of cards on top and then gets bored again. Goro is the worst of the night owls at the best of times, insomniac and always up at two and three and five-thirty in the morning, and sometimes she’ll wake up to a long string of tired-sounding texts and complaints and still respond immediately when she texts him back to scold him. But he always falls asleep within a couple hours of crawling onto her bed.

   It’s probably good, despite the boredom she has to suffer as a result. She’s sort of flattered. He’s draped over her legs and crumpled up in such a way that it can’t be comfortable, but he _looks_ comfortable. He looks at ease.

   Ice cream drips onto his nose and he wrinkles it like a bunny rabbit.

   “Dummy,” she mumbles, nudging his cheek, smiling when he makes an affronted noise mid-doze. They’d only gotten through about one and a half of the movies she’d bothered to gather, foolishly hopeful despite the evidence of sleepovers past that he might stay conscious long enough to get through a few more. A half-finished game of poker is still scattered across her sheets. She hadn’t gotten to interrogate him about his relationship the way she’s been burning to for ages.

   She clicks off the TV and curls over him. The position kind of crumples her spine. Her whole body will certainly ache tomorrow, and so will his.

   But looking at Goro’s squished babyface against her thigh and the absence of that usual awful tightness in his expression, warm and making quiet noises as he worms closer to her, his clothes smelling vaguely of ice cream and varnish… Ann finds she can’t mind any of it all that much.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading... i hope you enjoyed it. <3
> 
> find me [@corviiid](https://twitter.com/corviiid) on twitter!


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